


The Last Book ᵈᵒʷᵒᵒ

by EndlessDowoo



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A little angst, Apocalypse, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessDowoo/pseuds/EndlessDowoo
Summary: Doyoung is all alone in the world and he finds a book, with no name nor owner.©CosmosLycoris





	1. Chapter 1

Powerful sirens sounding everywhere, people running around and pushing themselves, falling, stepped on by others who fled in terror. Screams and panic.

I opened my eyes; in fact, the noise came from a place not so far away and had sneaked into my dreams, which were similar to a long-forgotten memory. Every time it happened, I didn’t lose the opportunity to write it down in a small notepad I had found some time ago, the pencil so tiny it was about to vanish had razor marks with the purpose of sharpening it. Writing ideas on paper was soothing and therapeutic.

Different points covered the pages:

_“There was an explosion in another continent so powerful that ended everything we know._

_I’m alone in the world._

_I must go to Seoul._

_My name is Kim Doyoung.”_

I don’t have lucid memories of what happened and of anything after that supposed explosion, but I do have fragments that reappear from time to time, stimulated by smells, things I see or hear and I try to fit everything like a puzzle but at the end I end up writing almost meaningless sentences on scorched paper.

I wonder how much longer my pencil will last; I must find a new one soon.

I’ve walked so much, I don’t know what day it is although it doesn’t even matter when the end of the times has arrived, right?

Since all this happened, I have no idea why I continue to breathe. Everyone has vanished, hundreds of lives degraded to nothing. One time I had to cross a city and the scenario wasn’t pleasant at all, bodies still lying around. That’s why I walk through the meadows, guided by a dusty map and some traffic signs placed every few kilometers.

The tricky thing was to find food because trying to ignore the places previously populated, where food supplies abounded, made the few provisions found in out of service gas stations not enough.

I regret not learning how to drive. It would be easier to reach my destination.

At first it was only about survival but, as the days passed, my memories moved me forward, my conviction forced me to make the journey and I didn’t have anything to lose so I didn’t refuse. Only it was so exhausting to see how the sun appeared and disappeared, replaced by the moon again and again and again without even realizing how little I advanced on foot.

The seasons that normally existed don’t make an appearance either, most likely for the impact made by whatever that created this disaster; an intense, heartrending heat maintained all the time with the temperature dropping rarely and drastically at night.

I’m thirsty, sometimes I miss the taste of coffee; in one of my dreams I saw myself sitting in what looked like my house, in front of a computer, typing words I wasn’t able to read, but the tangy smell of those bitter seeds was recorded very strongly in me. It surely was my favorite drink.

I must admit that I’ve cried a lot of times before falling asleep, because I’m here when others no longer exist.

Do I even deserve such a miracle?

There must be someone else.

The strong dry winds were a mere surprise to put the situation even rougher, fortunately I found some great pilot lenses that served as protection. I took some leather gloves and a jacket of the same material and an old cloth covered my face, so I was well protected from the unbearable sun rays and all the dust that was rising impetuously.

Now I was fighting against one of these _earthstorms_ , too thick to be sand, too thin to be rocks. When it ended, the glasses of my pilot lenses were completely dirty. I took them off to give it a dusting and so I noticed the spectacular sign above me, half fallen and with blurred words still enough to understand what it was saying.

“Welcome to the main city, Seoul”.

I fell to my knees, took off the huge backpack that had my belongings inside and threw it as far as possible to free myself of the weight overloading my shoulders and hurting my back. I raised my arms as a sign of victory.

I had achieved it.

I screamed to the wind so many times until I was speechless, still quite outside of the big city but it didn’t matter. Narrowing my eyes, I found the great buildings that covered the horizon, the outburst I had in my heart gave me the clue that I had been here before.

I wrote it down in my notepad.

Maybe I wouldn’t need the map.

The city couldn’t be quieter, newspapers and flyers flew all over the place. I reaffirmed how desolated the planet was seeing that the thousands of shops didn’t contain people walking and that the escalators had stopped moving long ago. I emphasized the loneliness seeing how deteriorated the thousands of cars that were waiting for their owners.

The little undergrowth had managed to remain after the disaster, taking over houses and covering them with green, taking back its place that the human being had stolen just to replace it with cement.

The traffic lights didn’t light on, giant screens had their led panels missing and the advertising posters, torn, were all that remained of the capital.

Without any direction, the first thing I did was to go hunting for food; I thought living in an abandoned house wasn’t a bad idea, after all nobody would care and I would have enough supplies.

One of the biggest reliefs was when I had a bed in front of me. After struggling with the shower and obtaining few murky drops that helped me to get rid of the dirt, I found some decent clothes a few sizes bigger than mine, all because I had stopped feeding well. Although nothing made me happier than putting a cloth on a double bed mattress and throwing myself on it. My backpack was the only thing I used to lay my head down, knowing that I would wake up with an unbearable pain in my neck; my bones were no longer strong enough to endure another night sleeping on the ground.

Another fragment appeared as soon as I fell asleep.

A distorted voice straight to my ear, transported through a cellphone with poor signal and way too much interference.

“I’m still in Seoul. They’re gathering us to go to a shelter, we’re too many but it seems that everything will be fine. Please be safe, I will make it. I swear, I’m not going to leave you, we’ll find each other.”

The call was cut and with it my well-deserved rest. Sleep deprivation had become a habit, the body gets used to it.

Those words echoed in me: “I will not leave you”.

Arriving in the safe city had detonated that memory for sure. Maybe that person and I were close and, remembering those words again, something in my subconscious had moved me to come to the city, maybe because of the possibility that the city would manage to overcome the catastrophe or to possibly meet with him; both reasons had to be discarded since there was no one here, just like everywhere.

I took my lenses, jacket and what served as a scarf because, although they weren’t strictly necessary, they had become accessories I liked, and also I didn’t want to risk myself being caught in a blizzard of dust.

I went around to feel the territory not so far from where I was staying, with the purpose of knowing directions and making a mental sketch of where I should go for more supplies.

I hadn’t analyzed the lack of bodies in the streets; I had encountered some in a few corners or inside supermarkets, but it wasn’t as I expected. It all seemed very suspicious, but I didn’t want to know about that either as that information wouldn’t do me any good. Loneliness was already part of my present and of my reality, so it wasn’t necessary to search for answers.

If not, it would cause me to get mad and, until then, I had managed to stay sane. Even with my eating and sleep disorders, I was still in my right mind.

At one point I felt like I owned the place, going through the area, looting the stores, taking sweets not yet expired and eating them without discretion.

I went to a shoe store to get a pair that looked spectacular, nothing compared to my worn-out disgusting tennis. I buckled my new shoes and watched in the reflection of a mirror how they fitted and so I saw my face: thin and pale, and although my body type was quite slim it was obvious I had been through a lack of nutrients. Maybe I didn’t have much time left.

The concentration I put on my silhouette was interrupted by a creaking; I looked everywhere to decipher where it came from, but I realized way too late that it was the roof. Some pieces of concrete fell little by little; however, I didn’t have enough time to react quickly and everything came down. One of the rectangular lamps collapsed very close to me, cutting my arm skin. I complained loudly about the deep wound and ran hurriedly to save myself.

A few more seconds and I would be under the ruins, dead.

The blood coming from my limb didn’t stop sprouting and the pain felt like a massive burning, which was ironically good news because it meant that I hadn’t damaged any nerves. My leather jacked had been completely torn apart, so it became useless; I took it off and threw it away.

I had to think of a solution soon.

That’s how I walked a few blocks, swearing to have seen a pharmacy on the road. Not even out of my mind would’ve go to a hospital, surely there would be decaying bodies there, so it wasn’t an option.

I spent all my time biting my lower lip, pressing the wound tightly so that the crimson liquid wouldn’t flow so freely. Trying not to succumb to the excruciating pain that my poor organism suffered.

I wasn’t wrong: I located the pharmacy and, struggling with the very last of my energies, opened the door. I had lost enough blood already; my vision was clouded, and dizziness began. I removed my lenses, remaining just with my scarf wrapping half of my face. I searched the shelves for alcohol, bandages and some pain pills.

When I found them, I swallowed without needing to drink liquid and then I bathed my arm with disinfectant. I growled in pain and the thick blood became waterier due to the difference between densities. A little foam leaked from inside the wound, but nothing prevented me from bleeding. When I took for granted that the wound had been properly cleaned, I wrapped it in white antiseptic fabrics. I breathed with difficulty and then collapsed, sitting on the floor.

The bandage didn’t take long to soak in red, so I quickly changed it; it was the advantage of staying in the pharmacy.

Without strength because of the blood loss, I began to blink more than usual. I shook my head wildly in order to stay awake, I couldn’t allow myself to fall asleep or it would be my downfall.

Because of that, my eyes landed in a corner and in a semi-open backpack that showed a cap, some nutritious bars and a bottle of water, so I decided to reach it and take advantage of the opportunity that had been given.

When I got up I saw my new shoes, the almost bright white had vanished and they were dyed red, impossible to remove. I cursed out loud and that only gave me more conviction to get that bag.

I reached and opened it without wasting time, I could only move my left arm, so it was a bit complicated. With my mouth I tore the plastic package from the oat bar and gave it a few bites, but nothing caught my attention as much as what I found immediately after.

A book.

The cover was blurred so I couldn’t know what the title was or anything that indicated what it was about so, without further ado, I opened it and flipped through it.

I took a seat again on the cold pavement and while devouring the food from the backpack I began to read the visible lines of the yellowish pages, a sign of the degradation of its components.

I couldn’t remember the last time I was a book, it seemed that they had gone extinct as well as people, just like everything. This seemed the last one of its kind, just like me.

On the first page, with cursive letters, it said.

“To my beloved.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first-person text recounted the daily lie of a couple of two men who had recently married.

Fascinated by my recent discovery, I decided that if reading this book was the last thing I would do before I died, it would be a good way to leave the world.

It wasn’t very thick so I would finish it during the rest of the day.

_**P. 127** _

_“The man before my eyes never ceases to amaze me. Golden hair fine and straight moving to the beat of the air, giving shape to the face of a true celestial being. No, even more than that, because he is real and isn’t the work of thousands of stories passed from person to person, word of mouth; he is here, lives and smiles, breathes and loves._

_I decided to have faith. Faith in you, my beloved._

_And you could say it’s a satire or blasphemy, but I’m willing to not belong to heaven because my paradise exist now, thanks to him.”_

I was speechless because of the way that person expressed on paper.

Could it be possible that I loved the same way as him when everything was still normal?

_**P. 131** _

_“I just want to find a thousand ways to let you know how far my feelings get, that you feel them through your five senses, your soul and every fiber of you. A little closer, a little more in love, so believe in me and come to me, please._

_I would like that, when you open your eyes and with your first breath of the day, think of me._

_When you look at me, you will see yourself reflected in my eyes and my world will appear before you.”_

_**P. 142** _

_"Sitting in our room (the one you chose because it was a birthday present) we took our favorite drink, although in different presentations, because we are similar and at the same time different, a sublime contrast and a right complement._

_Mine is strong and bitter, hot and with a powerful aroma, meanwhile you cool down the content with cold milk and then add sugar in great quantity; the smile that is drawn on your face prevents me from scolding you._

_We don’t talk about anything; we just enjoy ourselves and our coffees."_

It seemed like an ordinary scene from a book, but I connected it to one of the dreams I once had with the smell of coffee; it felt very similar to the description in the text. Soon I realized that I was thinking more than necessary: coincidences exist after all.

When I interrupted the reading, I looked at my bandages thinking that they were ready to be discarded but, luckily, I had stopped bleeding so I could keep them for a while longer. I would then clean the cut once more and wrap it again.

The book did not have a reason; I mean, it seemed more a dedication of thoughts. The author described his partner with detail, so much that I could almost see that person in my thoughts. My head was trying desperately to draw a figure to assign it to the character of the story, which is the purpose of each story, novel, fable and poem. They free the mind, expand horizons, make you create so many options and worlds from scratch.

I revealed that I loved books, I used to read regularly.

If I left unharmed the first thing I would do would be to look for a bookstore or library, it couldn’t be the last book in the world, right?

_**P.168** _

_"I write poems to you, I sing songs to you, I make art for you, you inspire me every second that passes._

_But suddenly your smile is forced, you tell me not to worry but we are soulmates and I can perceive that something is bothering you._

_You confess that you want to have children, always wanted to adopt and have a typical family vacation. I caress your face, soft as if it was a lost treasure. There is nothing that would make me happier than having that kind of bond._

_I accept without doubt and you are again the sunbeam of always, a brilliant shooting star, a wish come true._

_Although it is complicated, because this world is not prepared for true love and unfortunately, we are denied the power to adopt._

_You regret it so much and it breaks my heart, but I promise to stay by your side forever and with that you stop sobbing. You kiss me and you repeat that you love me. We have each other and we can try again._

_Do not suffer anymore, my beloved."_

A sting in my forehead was present and I felt a little scared as it could be a bad sign or a side effect because of the wound. When I touched the bridge of my nose, I was reassured that I had no fever, so there were still no symptoms of any infection.

With that page a terrible nostalgia seized me, because I had never analyzed if in my past life I had had a partner, children; I did not know it and weirdly everything that related the lines of the book sounded deeply familiar to me. I hated not remembering anything, my memory was erased, it had been worse punishment than loneliness and days without food. It was too unfair that even that had been taken away by the hazards of fate.

Although sometimes, clinging to the past is an easy access to insanity.

Because of that story, I was doing things I hadn’t touched in all this time. I was getting angry and an immense sadness threatened to appear.

Those two people in the book were just one of the many couples who had been devastated by the end of the world. They didn’t have fulfilled their dreams and the "happily ever after" didn’t exist.

I started crying because of the mess that had in my mind, everything hurt, my arm, my head and my soul. I was tired of thinking, of living in a monotony, in an illusion. I was going to grow old in that empty world, stripped of all my emotions, just keeping the sense of survival. Because I didn’t need to be a human on that planet that only forces you to move forward with senses and instincts.

I was bending over and couldn’t stop sobbing, for my present self, for my future and past self.

With delicacy I passed the few pages that remained to the book and that still contained visible text, until I reached the end. Hoping his story would end well, after all.

**_P. 217_ **

_"Do you remember the day we met?" It was almost a movie, crashing and falling to the ground. I never imagined that contact would be the way I would come across the owner of the other end of my red thread of destiny._

_So, I want to conclude this story with the beginning because until the end I fell in love with you, as if it was the first time._

_My beloved, my beloved Jungwoo."_

It was curious that only until the end did the name of the protagonist of the story was known, because even though the narrator could pass for the main character, everything revolved around the so-called Jungwoo.

I sighed.

I tried to imagine what that guy looked like; I had a lot of information provided by the author's paragraphs. It sounded of an unparalleled beauty and a pure and mischievous personality at the same time, what a perfect combination.

If someone like that existed, I think the same thing as the writer would’ve happened to me.

I wanted to inquire about the person responsible for the book, because he never mentioned his name throughout the pages; maybe so that the reader could feel in the shoes of the characters and so making the empathy greater. I looked at the last sheets that usually had the acknowledgments or were empty, but I found a name at the bottom-right corner.

I reread a thousand times, because I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing:

_P. **218**_

_"Author: Kim Doyoung"_

_"Doyoung, wake up, breakfast is ready."_

I woke up suddenly, shocked by the image that appeared in my dream: golden hair, fine and straight moving to the beat of the air, giving shape to the face of a true celestial being. Just like the damn book.

Was I going crazy?

Impossible, in the book he clearly said my name. What were the odds that someone else would be called the same?

That's why everything was almost a déjà vu.

I moved abruptly to get up, forgetting the terrible state of my limb, so it hurt horribly. I had fallen asleep although I shouldn’t have but apparently I was still alive and it didn’t look any worse or better.

Throughout the night I hadn’t dropped the book, the last book without a name and without an owner.

But it was mine.

Still incredulous I clung to the object as if it had life, as if it were the person who wrote it.

I made a recount of the notes of my notebook and yes, everything indicated that I had to come here to meet Jungwoo, my partner.

My subconscious struggled with what it could to get me going; even though I often wanted to give up it still hoped to meet the boy again, but no, it was not possible. Everything was over.

The meaning of life was extinguishing like a wax candle, fallen apart. When you achieve one of the goals in life you get another to pursue but in those conditions it was too complicated and perhaps, useless.

The melancholic moment would have lasted longer, if not for a thunderous noise that rumbled the place. I was alert in case it was another collapse, however, the unthinkable happened.

“Get your dirty hands off my belongings”. A guy covered with a cape and hood pointed at me with a shotgun. I had seen weapons during my entire journey, but I never saw the need to have one. His face was also difficult to see, because like me it was covered with a cloth from the nose to the neck. I adjusted my scarf, as if hiding my identity would save my life. “I will not repeat it again, leave that and get out of here. That backpack is mine. Damn thief-“

That explained why things were well stored in a backpack that didn’t look old but didn’t think it belonged to someone either.

"Is there any…?" My voice sounded shaky, but it was necessary to raise the volume since the thick fabric blocked the sound. “…Survivors”. It was difficult not to break right there. The boy lowered the weapon, inferring that I wasn’t a threat. He saw my arm hurt and then gave me a furtive look.

"You’re not from here?" I denied. “I'll let you go, although I'll take my things”. He came up to me and seriously, I still couldn’t believe the fact that a human being, alive and able to think, was breathing and walking near me. I was mostly astonished and incredulous, alluding everything to paranoia “You must be careful, there are people who are not as kind as I do”, he warned me.

No, I couldn’t believe that there were more people, I didn’t know whether to be happy or devastated for living alone for so long. I ran a hand through my hair out of frustration and thought I was going to have a panic attack. Everything that I believed was real, was being broken down and I was barely trying to recover from both my accident and from the recent abrupt memories that appeared because of the book.

“Hey, calm down. I'm sure it was hard, but it’s better to be alone than in bad company”. The fabric hiding his face was lowered “Give me back my book, please. It's something important to me”.

 _“The face of a true celestial being"._ When I saw him, I remembered that line of the story that I had supposedly written. Not knowing what to say, I handed him the object and he snatched it from me, to which his face stopped being rough and the relief showed in his fine features.

I was speechless. Petrified.

Would this be a dream?

Everything was extremely confusing, my heart beating a thousand per hour, I could have died from nerves.

The boy hid his face again, ready to leave where he came from. He put the backpack on his shoulder and without saying anything he started walking.

I couldn’t let this happen. Because he...

“Wait! Your name, what is your name?” I left my trance and desperately asked him. If he didn’t stop, I would be willing to go after him.

“It is none of your business”, he answered me, as I expected “Kim Jungwoo, I am Jungwoo and I do not know why I am telling you this”, he turned around again.

"Do you remember the day we met?" It was almost a movie, crashing and falling to the ground. I never imagined that contact would be the way I would come across the owner of the other end of my red thread of destiny”. It was the first thing that came to my mind, narrating clearly so that my conviction could be noticed, because my memory hadn’t restored but all the clues were more than enough.

It seemed impossible, right? But does it matter? I went there for him, after all.

I pushed the scarf aside, exposing my face. The other stood still without moving a single muscle. After thinking about it a lot, he returned his gaze in my direction.

He put a hand to his mouth, the stars he had for eyes were bewildered, shining as bright as they could.

“I'm Kim Doyoung, it's a pleasure to meet you”.


End file.
